Turnabout is Fair Play
by Dylan Cruca
Summary: Based on promos, flirty, sexy, undercover Jeller after hours. 2-part smutty fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-This is another one of those storylines that I suspect tons of writers are going to write about, but I wanted to throw my hat in the ring. This is my take on the promo that was released showing flirty, married, undercover Jeller from a prompt by the insanely talented Snapdragon83. We did a little fic swapping. This will be a two-part story, and I'm guessing the plot of part 2 will be pretty obvious for those who understand the title and the not-so-subtle suggestion within the story. : - ) I'm still continuing Breakdown as usual, but I wanted to post this story as part of premiere week preparations (I CAN'T WAIT!)**

 **One warning: definitely on the heavier end of the smut scale and lighter on the plot end. Ahem. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Part 1**

"Damn," Jane complained as she looked in the refrigerator. "I forgot to throw the beer in the fridge this morning."

Kurt stepped up beside her, dropping a few ice cubes into his glass of bourbon. "There are other ways to wind down, relieve stress," he commented before he took a drink.

"That sounds promising," she purred. Then she teased, rummaging through the freezer, "You're talking about the chocolate ice cream?"

He stepped behind her, amused, as he answered, "Obviously." His ice rattled in his cup as it clanked onto the counter.

Jane hissed air through her teeth in a startled gasp when he nibbled her ear with his ice-chilled mouth, his arm hooking under hers, hand pressing against her chest to nudge her close. "That's cold," she attempted to scold, contradicting the reprimand by tilting her head and offering him unencumbered access.

He chuckled against her neck, his hand running down her arm and over the flimsy fabric of her thin white shirt. The relative silence halted with a too familiar click-clack sound. Jane shook her head and asked, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" lifting her hand and displaying the handcuff he'd placed on her right wrist.

"Who me?" he roguishly gleamed. She turned to face him while he took her left hand in his. "Felt like following through on that suggestion I made earlier. You. Me. Handcuffs."

"You need help to keep me under control?" she jabbed.

"Ever since you're back, you're always rushing me."

"No I'm not," she replied with disbelief.

"You are. I'm an artist. Artists shouldn't be rushed."

"You're crazy," she countered, shaking her head at his bravado.

"Many artists are," he responded, directing her left wrist toward the right without the slightest true resistance from her.

As the second cuff clicked, Jane stared into his eyes. Strangely he didn't gloat over the fact that she obviously wasn't fighting him, and she didn't make any statement or move to dissuade him. "Just remember, fair is fair," she commented without emotion.

"What do you mean?" he asked, almost immediately forgetting her comment and his follow-up question when she lifted her arms over his head and rested them on his shoulders, the cool chain of the handcuffs behind his neck. She stepped her foot between his legs and slid her knee higher.

"Well you've got me here. So what are you going to do with me now?"

"See," he commented, "always rushing me. It's not always about the destination…it's about the journey."

"But I like arriving at the destination," she said with a feigned complaint. She added, playfully, "Of course, sometimes I like arriving, then leaving and returning to the destination multiple times in one night."

"I'll see what I can do about that."

"Well, I—" she stopped when he abruptly swept her off her feet and carried her over near the door. Anticipating that he was taking her to their room, she was surprised when he stopped in the hall, pushing her back against the wall.

He lifted her hands above her head, the fierce determination in his eyes giving her pause. Putting one arm around her waist, he lifted her, using his free hand to guide her wrists in place and hooking the chain of the handcuffs over a large coat hook mounted high on the wall.

Standing so he was almost against her, he planted his left palm on the wall near her head and said, "I'm so damn glad I have my wife back."

"And I missed my husband," she sweetly answered.

His eyes drifted down her shirt, his fingers tugging the neatly tied white bow as he watched it tumble into two separate ribbons, one over each breast. His finger, beginning at the bottom hem of her shirt, moved up over the center row of buttons to her face. His mouth gravitated to hers, and the ravenous way that she kissed him made him almost forget what he was doing. It was hard to follow a well-schemed plan when she looked like she did, and tasted like she did, and felt the way she felt against him. His leg moved between hers, parting her thighs as his knee met the wall. Almost involuntarily, her hips moved forward, seeking him.

He, too, instinctually reacted, answering her responses as she matched his. His hands moved over her hips before traveling to her ass and pushing her toward him. She hummed immediately at the pressure against her already needful body, shifting from side to side to encourage her skirt to ride up so he could be even closer. His arousal pressed against her thigh, she was suddenly reminded of her bonds when she wanted to reach between them, release the button on his pants, and shove her hand in to touch him. She could already feel it in her mind, the back of her hand splitting his zipper as she wrapped her fist around him. Damn, she'd missed this man, not just while she'd been on the run, but in the twelve or so hours since she'd last been with him like this.

His hands simultaneously returned to her hips, trusting now that she would stay wedged against the front of his body. His fingers leading the way, his hands progressed from her hips down her outer thighs, first finding the softer smooth patch of skin where her legs were uncovered. His fingertips hit an unexpected snag, and he leaned back to investigate.

"Oh fucking hell," he said as he looked down at her figure, realizing that she was wearing black garters. "You're trying to kill me?"

"Yea," she answered, a little shy beneath his lusty gaze, insanely turned on from their activities and his obvious excitement, but still frisky enough to tease him. "That's been my plan all along…to get to your millions."

He bobbed his head, "Impressive long game." But he wasn't nearly as playful, too busy admiring the sight of her to really joke.

"You okay?" she smirked.

"You never wear stuff like this."

"Going undercover with me turns you on, so I decided to take advantage of that."

"No it doesn't," he argued, never looking away from her legs for even a second to argue.

She gazed up in the air, counting instances of evidence to back up her point, and he finally surrendered. "Okay, fine, sometimes it does. It probably always will now because I'll be picturing this under whatever you're wearing." If he was trying to sound reproaching, he failed.

After taking in her form, he eradicated the meager distance between them, his hands braced on the wall next to her head as he stubbornly refused to put them on her where she so desperately wanted them. She hooked her ankle behind his knee and encouraged him between her legs again. His hands found their way back to her, as they inevitably would, his fingers sneaking beneath the flap of fabric that hid her buttons while he carefully opened them one by one and looked at each new inch of exposed flesh like its own prize.

He was growing impatient, and had she not been so turned on, she would have told him that _he_ was often the one who rushed things, not her. But she noted the way she was already grinding her body against his leg, and knew she was just as guilty of being swept up as he was. And the months of separation didn't do anything to ease their mutual yearning.

Once her shirt was unbuttoned, he parted it as far as he could, pushing it back to her shoulders to expose as much of her as possible, but unable to remove it completely because of her restraints. His hands brushed slowly but with a firm grasp around her waist and to her back, crushing her against him as he kissed her neck and the uncovered part of her shoulder. He definitely needed to take her on a second honeymoon, where they could do this for days and try to make up for lost time.

She attempted to curl her arms around him, and the links on the cuffs made tiny metallic clacking sounds as they moved over the hook, forcing him to focus. He moved back one step, only enough to put some space between them, and she actually whined at the separation. His eyes skated over her figure like he couldn't stop studying her, his gaze filled with so much longing that it made her skin prickle.

He leaned lower, kissing the swath of breast that wasn't covered by her bra as he reached into his pocket and produced his keys. "Giving up already?" she gloated, assuming that he was unlocking the cuffs.

"Nope," he replied, his voice muffled against her.

He opened the small knife he kept on his keychain, and she joked, "Do we need a safe word?"

Amused by her question, he said, "Can't we go with the usual, 'Kurt-don't-you-dare.' That always seems pretty effective."

She waited until he looked at her face, his eyes full of love and his expression overflowing with evocative intent. When he looked at her like that, it was a miracle that the word 'no' even existed in her vocabulary. "That'll work," she finally replied.

The lightness of the moment dispersed in the next heartbeat when his concentration turned back down to the parts of her that were already showing. She didn't need to look at his pants or lean against him to know how hard he was for her, his focus as sharp as it was on the most serious missions. His chest moved more heavily, his mouth slightly gaped, his pupils so dilated that they threatened to overtake the vibrant color that surrounded them.

Careful to avoid her skin, he moved the knife beneath her bra and cut the fabric between the cups before they sprang apart, her breasts freed from their covering. She was poised to yell at him for ruining one of her very few nice bras, after all, she typically preferred more utilitarian designs, but, damn, if the way he sliced through that one garment because he was unwilling to wait any longer didn't send a very deliberate and demanding pulse between her legs.

He took a few steps back toward the kitchen, his concentration fixed on her. "Going somewhere?" she asked with a bit of irritation showing.

"Thirsty," he absently stated, as if answering was relatively unimportant.

Retrieving his glass, he returned, taking a sip of bourbon and grabbing a chair from beneath the table to place right in front of her. She was beginning to grow anxious, enjoying this experience, but also ready for some kind of relief for the aches that were becoming uncomfortable. She looked up at the hook to figure out how to get her hands down, and he said, wagging his finger side to side, "Unh uh."

He stepped over the chair, taking another swig before he put the glass on the floor and without any sort of warning wrapped his lips around her nipple and pulled it into his mouth. She breathed in one sharp squeal at the contrast between his chilly mouth and warm breath as he lavished attention on just that one spot.

For a short while, that single space of pleasure was enough. Her cheek rested against her arm as she watched the way he pleased her, his pink tongue occasionally darting out from his lips as it moved over her.

Excitement continued to build, but it drew even more attention to the places where he was absent. She wanted him to stand close, at the very least, lean his solid frame against her, offer some modicum of pressure. While he continued lapping and sucking, his hands moved up over her thighs, lifting her skirt over her hips because it had disobediently fallen. Although he made all attempts to appear in complete control, her skirt finally frustrated him enough that he unzipped it and yanked it to the ground, tapping one of her legs and then the other to get her to lift so he could sling it across the floor.

She lifted her foot again to kick off her heel, and he reached down and grabbed the arch, looking up at her and asking, "Leave those on?"

"Okay." She negotiated, "If you will, you know…keep going…I'll leave them on."

He paused and sat back, his hands on her thighs, massaging because he couldn't seem to stop feeling her. "Keep going?"

"Yes," she impatiently countered.

"What is it you want me to do?"

"You know what I want you to do," she griped.

And, of course, he did. There wasn't one single answer that would have made her happy, he had several options to meet her needs, but he was toying with her. "I'm not that smart," he beamed.

"Touch me or lick me or…something. Now."

He continued touching her thighs, closer to her knees than her hips, and reached out and licked her tummy before he looked up and said, "Better?"

He chuckled while she scowled and said, "I need this. I need you."

Her endearing disgruntlement won him over, and he moved his right hand from her outer leg inward, his fingertips brushing her skin while he progressed to her inner thigh. She stared down at him, beginning to moan before he even reached the top of her thighs, and then snarling with disappointment when he moved his hand back to her belly. Before she could complain any more, his thumb stretched over to her sex, tapping just below the space where her body began to part. She sighed like she'd been given more than he was actually offering, just out of the joy of finally feeling some realization of her desires.

His thumb drifted lower, parting her folds and sliding down, seeking and finding the wetness that had been gathering for him. When he moved upward again, he stopped short of her clit, not offering anything so direct that might help push her over the edge too abruptly.

One solitary finger slid lower, following the crevice down to her warm center and slipping shallowly into her. She was a gorgeous knot of wants and needs, of arousal, pleasure and frustration all in one, appreciating what was being given but constantly wanting more. She was almost positive she heard herself moan when he leaned closer, his face drawing nonchalantly nearer.

"Stop messing around and go down on me," she rasped, imagining the feeling of his mouth on her so clearly that not experiencing it was torment. She started to ask nicely, managing to say only "Plea—" before he silenced her, his lips encircling her clit and offering a loving but firm suck.

Had he been able to see her face, he would have seen her eyes flutter up as she was finally feeling something she'd craved so ferociously. With each of his focused draws, she moved toward him, encouraging that finger that was barely inside her to move more deeply. Every time she got what she wanted, she found she only wanted more. Finally, just as she was about to scream a loud and very candid order, he let his tongue sweep up and swirl over her clit, adding to the sucking sensations. She felt everything finally build to its climax in a thousand furtive pulses and explosions through her body, all emanating from the place where her flesh met his mouth.

Even as she started to come down, she still felt residual longing, as if he'd met one need but others still lingered. He stood in front of her, the backs of his legs pushing the chair away, sliding his tongue into her mouth as she still gasped from echoing orgasmic reverberations. She tasted herself on him, mixed with spicy bourbon, the kiss so thorough and deep that it reminded her of how much she wanted to bring him the same release.

Her hands were still over her head, and while he kissed her, she heard his belt fall open and his zipper lower. She felt irritated that she couldn't touch him, couldn't stroke the cock that she knew was hard as steel and ready for _her_. He was hers, body, mind and soul.

Toying with him was out of the question. It probably wouldn't take much to finish him off, and he'd made her feel so wonderful that she wanted to offer him the same in return. When he wasn't buried in her with his next breath, she said, "Don't you want to be inside me? Feel me around you, so tight and wet from how hard you made me come?"

Jane seldom said such things, and knew perfectly well that he was often trying to get her to talk like that. It was apparent that her words had had the desired effect. He'd been unbuttoning his own shirt, but when he heard her questions, he didn't even bother taking it off before continuing. He lifted her legs around him, pulling his lower lip into his mouth and trying to calm himself as he felt the heels of the shoes she still wore scratching at his skin. Supporting her weight with his body, he reached above and unhooked her hands, leaving the cuffs on but allowing her forearms to rest on his shoulders.

He lined up at her entrance, piercing her body with one powerful thrust, groaning loudly as he finally sank into her warmth. She could hear the sounds of her wet body taking him in, his tensely pleasured grunts in her ear and her own counter gasps that she was powerless to control. "I want to feel you come in me," she added, knowing that she was very near another orgasm and wanting him to finish with her.

Shouting roughly, he thrust into her as hard and deep as he could a few final times before he plunged into her as far as their bodies would allow and froze. She screamed uninhibitedly until her lungs were out of air, her body reaching a second stronger orgasm that made her twist against him until she couldn't move any more, each body jerking slightly as the final wave of release hit before they toppled against the wall.

He retrieved the keys from the floor, releasing the cuffs. Holding both of her wrists in his hands, he soothed over the parts of her skin that had been restrained. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she responded without hesitation. "Better than fine."

First removing the shirt and ruined bra, he rubbed her shoulders for a moment, easing the muscles that felt tight. Giving him a certain look to make sure he knew she was happy and well, she pulled away.

She practically glided across the floor, going to the freezer and opening a drawer in the kitchen before she returned to him. Taking his hand, she dragged him toward the bedroom. She shoved him onto the bed, watching him fall without a fight before he tossed the last vestiges of clothing across the room like they offended him.

She sat next to him, her legs tenting over his as she peeled the lid off the ice cream. She scooped some out with the tip of her spoon and held it for him to take a bite.

After he swallowed it, he asked, "Fun or not fun?"

"Very fun," she answered, taking her own bite.

"So no regrets or…anything?"

"Not at all," she suspiciously asked. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Something you said earlier…'fair is fair.' You had fun, I had fun. So that's fair, right?"

She tapped the frigid spoon very low on his abdomen, watching him jump from the sudden shock of cold before she offered him another bite. First gazing angelically, she wrinkled her nose before she shook her head. "Nope."

"What are you planning?" he asked bracing his upper body on his elbows.

Impishly she lifted her eyebrow and responded, "I guess you'll have to wait and see."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-This is the last chapter of this one. Thank so much to everyone out there who took the time to check this out. I hope you enjoy it. And thanks to my lovely editors for catching so many mistakes!**

 **Reminder: Adult Content warning on this story.**

Jane hadn't said a thing about her revenge since he'd handcuffed her and had his way with her. For the first few days, it was almost all he could think about. He thought about it when they got home, when they woke up, every time he saw those shiny metal rings. But as days became weeks, and weeks became a month, he thought about it less frequently. He figured Jane either wasn't all that fond of what had happened, or felt too awkward about instigating it.

Then one evening, there was a party for Hirst. It was informal, and Kurt predicted very boring, but he and Jane liked Hirst, so they wouldn't miss it. He was nearly ready when he saw Jane walk past the door of their room, sharing a glimpse of her partially dressed figure. "You look nice," he noted, sauntering closer to get a better look.

"Stay over there," she ordered when he peered through the doorway.

"Why?"

"Because we're going to be late if you come any closer."

Whatever the hell she was going to wear underneath her clothes was worth staying home for. It was simple, a somewhat skimpy black bra and panty set, but then again, she knew what he liked. He felt strongly that such a beautiful thing should never be covered up.

"I can work quickly."

"Words every woman dreams of hearing," she wryly retorted.

He chuckled and said, "Fine…I can work _efficiently._ "

"You say that now, but we'll miss this thing or be late. You won't feel bad about it yet, but you will later. And you'll probably blame me."

"Ridiculous," he argued, "I'll be way too tired to worry about it later."

She pulled the shirt around her shoulders and closed each button. It was the same shirt she'd worn the first night she'd stayed, and this was the first time he'd seen her wear it since she was back. How could he forget something he'd so thoroughly enjoyed removing from her?

He approached, his Cheshire grin in the mirror over her shoulder. "I love this shirt," he said while he put his hands just above her hips.

"Behave," she ordered, not in the playful, challenging way he liked, but in the no-nonsense way that meant she wasn't fooling around.

Still, he took the opportunity to touch what he could without incurring too much of her wrath. "You're going to have to exercise some… _restraint_ ," she advised. Tilting his head, he waited for an explanation, but she smiled with an attempted innocence that made her appear far more impish. Her eyes raked over him, and she added somewhat hoarsely, "I can't wait to get you home tonight."

Her flirty behavior silenced the last remaining molecules of his body that felt they needed to be on time for this shindig. He lifted her before she could protest, carrying her to the dresser, placing her onto the surface, and moving between her legs. "How about a preview?" he suggested determinedly.

She brought her lips toward his, and he felt a swell of growing tautness as he expected to have a few minutes to enjoy his wife before they had to leave. They'd both still have something more to look forward to later. He was entirely stunned when he found himself spun around with his hands pulled behind his back. She moved her mouth to his ear and whispered, "I said behave."

He wasn't quite sure how to take her reaction. Pressing her body into his back, she added, "My rules tonight, okay?"

His mouth opened for a few seconds as he tried to find his words. "Hell yea," he eventually answered with stunned anticipation. "Sounds good to me."

He felt chilly metal moving down the back of his neck, realizing that she had her handcuffs. "You're not going to make me put these on you before the party, are you? I don't know if you want to explain that to everyone we see."

"Probably a more interesting conversation than any we're going to have there."

"I seriously doubt that," she answered, her tone insinuating that her plan was bigger than just their post-party activities.

She turned him around, her attempt at iciness cracking for a second while she giggled and grinned at him like she was giddy over a new plaything. He smiled back at her like they were sharing a secret, finding the inkling of inhibition that she was fighting as it peeked through for a moment. Then she became solemn again, saying, "If you listen, you'll be rewarded. But don't try anything sneaky."

Taking a few breaths, he had to convince himself to follow her directions. On one hand, he found her so entirely irresistible that he forgot where they were even supposed to be going. On the other hand, he was thoroughly enjoying her mischief, and thought it would probably be well worth the wait. "Nothing sneaky. Got it," he eventually agreed.

* * *

The party was more interesting than what he'd expected, largely because of those subtle things she'd done all evening to keep his interest piqued. She felt practically glued to his side, and he'd always enjoyed evenings like that, the two of them hanging on each other's arms. From the outside, it probably looked sweet, a somewhat newly reunited husband and wife who didn't want to be parted.

But Jane was being far more devilish, and this side of her was something he hadn't seen before, at least not to this degree. She knew of his fondness for talk, for those dirty little suggestions or whispers that could be shared in secret. As much as he'd always tried to wriggle those sorts of things from her, she didn't often say them. That night, it felt like every thought she whispered into his ear was something suggestive, the words on her lips ones she seldom spoke, especially outside of the bedroom.

And her touches were hardly innocent either, even if they appeared that way to others. Her hands were stealthy, stealing flirty touches beneath the table while others carried on the usual mundane party chatter. It wasn't easy to ignore the primal urges she was stirring.

They were at the party exactly forty-three minutes, her hand resting high on his thigh, when he first suggested that they should leave.

"We haven't had dinner yet. It would be rude to leave so soon," she said.

Kurt suggested it again only a half-hour later. He'd spent too much of their married life without her, and nothing at this party meant as much to him as she did. The next time he asked her to leave, his requests were becoming more plea-like, and she shook her head. "I'm not feeling too great," he said, loudly enough for their friends nearby to hear.

"That's too bad," Jane said, appearing concerned, although he knew it was an act. "You go on home and I'll ride back with Patterson later."

He scowled as she tried to suppress a smirk, and he answered, "No. I'll be alright."

The next time they were out of earshot, he whispered, only half-joking, "You're so mean. Why can't we go?"

"We'll leave soon. Be patient."

"I have been _really_ patient," he said, catching her glare.

"You haven't. But I promise if you wait just a little longer, I'll fuck you so hard you'll forget your name." Her expression appeared unendingly innocent, eyes wide and kind, juxtaposing the suggestions she'd whispered. She leaned closer, her breath against his ear as she added, "Maybe I'll wrap my lips around that thick—"

"Stop," he said, clearly done playing as he stepped back. "That's really not f—fair. I'm telling you right now, if you finish that statement, I will fling you over my shoulder and walk right out of here."

"That's a great way to make a subtle exit!" She chuckled, her face in a full out grin over just how flustered he was. "I'm sorry," she unconvincingly offered. Then she glanced at her phone and said, "Ten more minutes and we'll say our goodbyes and head home. I promise."

* * *

He stood in the living room, hands cuffed behind his back, grinning like an idiot. The fact that he seemed to feel he'd won some sort of victory kind of irritated her. After all, she was supposed to be the one in charge of all of this. Still he seemed to believe that he was going to control things even though he was restrained. She reviewed their history and thought of how many times he had swayed her with a touch or a kiss or those beautiful eyes and talented body. She was not going to allow him to charm his way out of this. As strong and stubborn and determined as she could be, at times she found him very hard to refuse.

She approached, her hands resting on his shoulders, feeling the strength of his arms beneath her palms. She grabbed her switchblade, unfolding it and bringing the point to the bottom of his shirt. "Wait," he said with the first flicker of concern, "I love this shirt."

"I loved the bra you destroyed. Come to think of it, I also loved the jeans you broke the zipper on, and the shirt you popped half the buttons off of, and those panties that—"

"Fine, I get it," he admitted, "my enthusiasm for getting you naked is… _costly_ in the wardrobe department. Lots of lost time to make up for."

With a glint in her eye, she ran the sharp blade under the fabric, appearing somewhat pleased with herself once she was able to remove the shirt completely. She kissed him softly while her hands moved over his chest, massaging the expanses of bared flesh, making it clear how much she admired his form.

She began to kiss a trail down his chest, stopping over each nipple and grazing her teeth before she worked patiently down his body. He hadn't really expected this to feel as good as it did, perhaps elevated by the longing she'd already built in him. He wished the room was better lit so he could see the way her lips moved over him. His wife was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on, and he was reminded of that fact every single time he saw her.

As she moved below his belly button, her intentions became very clear. He felt her tongue lave over the skin just above his jeans, his erection already pushing against the cloth. He closed his eyes for a second, anticipating her lips and her hands wrapping around his dick. He'd be willing to sacrifice every piece of clothing he had if she would handcuff and go down on him like this any time she pleased.

Her fingers wiggled into the pockets at the front of his pants, holding him still while she tugged the button open with her teeth. She was so close to his sex, and he felt himself rocking onto his toes like that would somehow convince her to move closer. Not surprisingly, she didn't seem to heed his suggestion.

Growing increasingly impatient, he kicked off his shoes, and tried to help push his pants down even though he was cuffed. But she stood, walked behind him, and whispered, "Let me take care of you."

Remaining behind him, her hands circled his waist and moved over the front of his jeans, rubbing a flat palm over his sex before she outlined the shape of him with her fingers, lingering enough to push him ever closer to begging. The thick layer of denim separating them was too much, and he groaned his relief when her fingers pinched the top of his zipper and carefully lowered it.

And yet she continued to really offer less than the pressure and contact he desired, her hands moving under his jeans and boxers, over his hips, sliding down his thighs while she brought his clothes to the floor. Her arms wrapped around him, she moved her hands over the tops of his legs and low on his stomach, each time venturing a little closer to where he wanted her, but always stopping short.

When he finally gave up on the thought that she was going to allow him any real satisfaction, both of her hands surrounded his sex, stroking firmly only once from base to tip, eliciting a groan that was halted when she robbed him of breath, and then her hands were gone again. His stuttered exhale brimmed with want and frustration. His body was flushed warm, but he missed the heat of her against his front. This had begun as fun, but it had gone on for long enough, and he was growing tired of waiting for everything that was being withheld.

He turned around to face her since his wrists were bound only to each other, and he stole a rough kiss from her, one that she gasped at when it was received, and she allowed for a moment because of the pleasure his hunger brought her. Then she pushed her hand to his chest firmly and said, "What are you doing?"

"I had an idea," he replied, using the exact tone that he knew she loved, the one that reminded her of him and sex, and being so insanely turned on and in love and swept up.

"Did you?" she answered back, her focus shifting between his eyes and his lips.

"This was fun. So let's hit the sofa or the bed. You can get on top of me, let me taste you," he leaned closer to her neck, reminding her of exactly how he would like to touch the space between her legs, and he felt her breath grow heavy. "I bet you're already wet for me."

She nodded, her eyes flaring slightly, "I am. I missed your body. I missed your lips. I missed your cock."

He smiled, knowing that she was saying things like that just to drive him crazy in the most wonderful ways, wishing he could release the lock on the cuffs and end this torment. She was killing him with her words and her touch and the way she looked. She had the upper hand, making him practically drool over her, and without even thinking about it, he started to try to regain control. "Let me between your legs, let me wrap my lips around your clit and suck, flick it with my tongue. Then I'll reach my tongue inside you, have you like that first. I know what you like. After you come the first time, and you're so wet that—"

"That's not what we're doing," Jane explained, a tempted but tenacious look on her face. Her determination had begun to waver, and she had to shut him up. "If you remember, you wanted to handcuff me, and I let you."

"And you liked it! You said it was fun." Kurt accused.

"Oh my god, yes," she replied, biting her lip and dragging three fingers slowly along the underside of his shaft, watching his abdomen tighten. "We could do that again some time. It was amazing."

"Amazing?" he numbly nodded. He would have gloated if he wasn't so desperate for her.

"Yes. I completely trust myself, and my body, in your hands."

"That's good," he groaned out when she kept moving her fingers over him. At least it was something. "You should trust me. I always want to make you feel good."

He leaned into her neck again, tugging her shirt to the side with his teeth, and then stopped dead when she said, "But I said 'fair is fair' and you agreed. You're not backing down now, are you?"

Standing upright, as tall as he could perhaps in an attempt to look more authoritative, he said, self-assuredly, "You can keep the cuffs on. I think it's always better if I have more ways to touch you, but if you're okay with that sacrifice, it's fine by me."

For a second she was a little angry, and it came through in her tone. "Weller!" she yelled, intentionally using his last name.

"What?" he chuckled then scowled as both of her hands left his body when she crossed her arms and completely ceased touching him.

"You agreed. I trusted you completely. I didn't make you follow any rules or conditions…I turned myself over to you. You don't trust me enough to do the same?"

"I trust you completely," he said, very solemnly. "I just…feel like it's my job to—to, you know. Make sure you're…content in that department."

"Your _job_?"

"And I really, really, _really_ love my job."

She still continued looking at him like he was insanely stupid, but she also looked adoringly. "To say that sex with you makes me 'content' is an insult to you, me, and our sex life."

He breathed a subtle laugh and looked away. "I'm glad to hear that," he replied.

"This…isn't about what you want. It's about what I want. I don't need to be taken care of. I can take what I want for myself."

"I want what you want," he whispered in his sex voice, and she swore he still sometimes made her knees feel like jelly. "Can I kiss you?" he asked.

One corner of her mouth turned up for a second before she nodded. This kiss wasn't what she'd expected, his lips surrounding her upper lip softly before he pulled back.

"Whatever you want," he said, like he was pledging an oath.

She grabbed a dining room chair and spun it around, and appeared a little surprised when he sat without a fight, his arms still tethered, hooked over the seat's back.

He anticipated her hands on him, more touches that were insufficient, but instead she unbuttoned her shirt, letting it fall open without taking it off. He could see it again, the sinfully skimpy bra she'd allowed him to look at but not touch earlier. The edges of the shirt fell to her upper thighs, and although she certainly wasn't doing an elaborately seductive dance, the way she slipped out of her pants had him mesmerized. When she turned, he could see just below the hem of her shirt, where her ass was covered by neither the tiniest panties she'd ever worn nor the tail of the shirt. His hands belonged there, on her body. He clenched his fists behind him, wishing her skin was beneath his fingers. She shrugged the shirt from her body, and he heard his own excited inhalation as he stared at her.

Stepping over his legs so she was straddling the chair and him, she slinked down his torso until she was almost on his lap, hovering warmly above. She gyrated subtly, offering a glimpse, a preview of what their bodies would feel like together. But he already knew. He'd had her time and again, studied her body, fucked her and loved her and came with her. And it still wasn't enough.

Instinct demanded that he reach for her, but the clack of tugging links reminded him that he couldn't. He was at her mercy, receiving only the pleasure she would allow. She rotated her hips, finally lowering enough that he could feel her inviting body against his erection. "Please," he choked out. "Please let me in."

Her eyes widened, full of love and wonder that he was willing to be so entirely vulnerable with his words, and then he added, "I need you so bad, Jane. I need to be inside you, to feel you. You want me to beg? Is that what you want?"

She shook her head. "I don't need you to beg. I promise I'll give you everything you want."

" _Need_ ," he insisted, demanding that she acknowledge the strength of what he felt.

Bobbing her head, she agreed, "Everything you need."

She stepped away for only a moment, standing between his legs, sinking down onto the ground before him so slowly. She rubbed her hands up his thighs, seeing the way he tried to lean back just a little more, his hips very subtly begging for her mouth to come closer. Her fingers grabbed onto his hips, her lips surrounding the tip of his cock while her tongue began to swirl. Her mouth moved over his shaft, licking and sucking along the length but not allowing him to be engulfed in the way he wanted to be.

He leaned down so far that she guessed the back of the chair was probably digging under his arms, not that he minded or even noticed. Still holding his hips, she put her lips around him and let him slide in just an inch, then she encouraged him to lift from the chair, pushing up toward her mouth while she controlled the depth with which he could enter.

She could hear the pleading on his lips, more of grunts and sounds than words, and she finally took pity, moving her hands to join her mouth in coaxing his orgasm from him. He was too consumed and excited to even think about the fact that he was finally getting what he needed. All he could do was feel. He finished like lightning struck, his arms tightening over the back of the chair and making it creak as he tried to yank the back free from the seat.

As the bursts of black and white finished dancing in front of his eyes, he could finally see again, far clearer than he had been able to for the last several hours. She was still kneeling in front of him, watching him recover like she was appreciating what she'd created, an angelic expression on her face that made her seem so much more wicked.

"You okay there?" she questioned with a lilting tease as she sat back, leaning her weight on her palms as they pressed into the floor.

He stood, kicking the chair back so it wouldn't get in his way. He knelt to the floor in front of her, walking on his knees while her hands took a few steps back, making him lean his torso over her to kiss her. "May I?" he asked, lowering his eyes so he could look over her body.

"Yea," she said, biting down hard enough on her lower lip to make her flesh whiter where the teeth met it.

He traced a line down her chest with his nose, his chin scratching over her bra-covered nipple before he grasped at the peak with his teeth. She hastily tugged the cup to the side, the bra still on but her breast bared for him to enjoy. If the bra was ruined this time, it was her fault, he thought, but wasn't anywhere near saying when his mouth had much better things to do.

He kissed along the dip below her ribs, a spot that was always just a little ticklish beneath his touch, and he felt the way her hips were twisting as her body started to scream its own demands. His hands were still locked behind him, and he scooted lower until her sex was before his eyes. Noting that she was lifting to remove the panties, he didn't bother waiting, his tongue wiggling beneath the flimsy lace and lapping up her arousal. His body still hungered for her, devoid of patience or resolve, craving her taste and the feeling of her wetness on his lips.

She didn't plead, but then she really didn't have to, he was giving her exactly what she wanted, taking her cues and following her signals. His hands desperately wanted to join in the fun, but he wasn't going to stop now and ask her to release them.

Her legs curled around his shoulders, pulling him closer, her hands grasping at the back of his neck as she rocked in waves against his mouth. She told him exactly how good it felt, how much she missed him, how much she needed him to touch her like this for the rest of her damn life. And each phrase, punctuated with cries and moans signaling the cresting of her passion, was said with such thorough ardor that he felt the sentiment behind the words as clearly as he heard them.

Her heels locked behind his head, her thighs clenching tightly as she rode out her own explosions of sensation until it all became too much, and she covered her sex with her hands, shielding her body from any further titillation. She still hadn't unlocked her ankles, and he was trapped in place, wiggling his tongue between her fingers to try to lick her again until she scooted back and sat up.

Sliding her focus over his body, she raised an eyebrow at the sight before her, nodded at him, and said, "You think you can go again?"

He loved Jane so much like this, unashamedly sexual, unembarrassed, wanting him as he wanted her. He bobbed his head.

"Already?" she half-growled, lunging forward and knocking him onto his back as she slinked out of her panties.

"I can't take all the credit. You're way too sexy to resist… so fucking hot like this."

Her hands grabbed onto his sex immediately, surrounding and tugging as she made sure he was fully prepared to take her. She slid up his body, pausing to guide him into her depths before her hands latched onto the caps of his shoulders. Her hips swiveled over him, letting him nestle as deeply inside her as possible.

It was then that they slowed, at this point when typically things were more frantic, both partially sated from their previous completions and only joining again because their love and desire allowed them to do so. He sat up, those damn cuffs still on his wrists, but at least he could feel her against his chest, her warm body on him, simultaneously beautifully delicate and fiercely strong. It was heaven just to be inside her, to feel the way she clung to him like he belonged there. Her elbows braced on his shoulders, the rhythm of her undulations slowing just a bit while her mouth covered his, tongues meeting and caressing in a slowly passionate kiss set to the pace of their lovemaking.

Kurt could always sense the exact seconds when she was close, the changes in the way she moved, the sounds she made, and the way she felt. And even though their pace was an attempt at a slowly fulfilling connection, it wasn't long before he felt the tightness inside her grow again. Her hands grabbed onto his face, her forehead anchored against his as she moved, and she uttered an _I love you_ that turned into another and another. He parroted back, not because he felt he had to, but because he loved her just as much. Those words would never, ever be adequate.

She needed him, beside her, inside her, with her always, and she said as much, and he felt the tiny tears in his heart heal a little with each confession. The moment her head tipped back and her arms extended, she froze for a second before the bursts of pleasure returned and they shared their climax. They seemed to equally feel the hyper-tension of each of the aftershocks she had, gasping into each other's mouths as the intensity began to fade with each pulse until all of the anticipatory turmoil receded.

Remembering her earlier promise, he nudged his nose to hers and pretended to fret, "Oh my god, what's my name?"

She laughed and replied, "Don't worry, Mr. Doe, I'm here to help you."

He smiled sweetly at her as she moved over the floor toward her discarded clothes. Jane reached for her pants and felt in the pockets and then mumbled, "Uh oh."

"What?" he asked, his arms growing very tired of this position now that he could concentrate on something other than sex.

"I can't find the key."

He shrugged, completely unconcerned.

"You don't care if I lost it?" she chuckled.

"I've seen you pick a few locks over the years. You could probably jimmy these open as fast as you could unlock them with a key. I married a woman with some pretty advanced B&E skills."

"Is _that_ why you married me?"

"No," he replied. "Not at all. But it does come in handy…from time to time."

She produced the key, quickly freeing his hands and watching over his shoulder while he rubbed his sore wrists. As soon as she tried to stand, he grabbed onto her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her in front of him, and holding her tightly in his lap.

"So…" she asked, recalling one of the questions he'd asked her before, "Fun or not fun?"

"Very fun," he answered immediately. "I missed holding you…but I managed."

"Your sacrifice is noted," she sarcastically replied, pretending to scowl. "But…I guess you're right. Maybe you could take me to bed, and I'll let you hold me all night."

Moving her to the floor in front of him, he playfully jabbed back, "Only if you force me." Then he stood, took her hand and helped her to her feet before he swooped her up and carried her to their bed.


End file.
